


Drumline

by Goldencoatl



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Death, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:56:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldencoatl/pseuds/Goldencoatl
Summary: Lúcio just wants his band to unlock their potential and win their division at competition. But there's one member of the drumline that just won't stop standing in the way.





	1. Confrontation Doesn't Look Good On You

Chapter 1

-

 

When it came to rehearsal time, Lúcio tried to keep things in perspective. He came from a country where it wasn’t unheard of for the temperatures to reach forty degrees celsius in the summer. Or, what, about one hundred fahrenheit? It would take time to get these American units down. So it was completely understandable how he was perfectly comfortable in the ninety degree heat while the rest of the band whined and dragged their feet across the blacktop. Well, most everyone.

 

Lúcio raised his brow slightly as he watched the tenor player, or the “assistant drum captain” as he liked to be called, attempted to be a walrus with his sticks. Jamison, that was his name. He had argued when he wasn’t made drum captain, complaining that he was the “best damn player on the line an’ deserved better than this,” which Lúcio could partly agree with. He was incredible on his instrument, but he lacked any sort of leadership skills whatsoever. He certainly wasn’t surprised he wasn’t made captain.

 

“Jamie, c’mon man, stop with the sticks,” Lúcio groaned, shooting him a half-hearted glare. That was one downfall of being drum major- he had to be stern with his band, and that just wasn’t something he was good at. “We’ve gotta set this drill, the first game is in a week.”

 

“Well someone’s gotta light up the mood, an’ you ain’t exactly helpin’ that,” the boy sneered back before quickly avoiding his gaze. Jamison could argue with their band director every day, but the drum major? A different story altogether.

 

“I’m just trying to get things moving along,” Lúcio tutted, shaking his head and smiling slightly as his best friend leaned over to pinch the loudmouth’s cheek. Hana was the low brass section leader and an exceptional sousaphone player. Even if her size compared to the instrument was comical.

 

“Jamison, if you don’t shut up and let us get this movement over with, so help me God I will kick your ass into next week,” she threatened, huffing as Jamison just pushed her hand away with a giggle.

 

“I believe ya, but this band needs me ya know.”

 

“This band needs everyone to focus,” Lúcio interjected, lightly swatting the two with his drill chart when they began a slap fight. “Back to set eleven, we can’t take a break until we get to the end!” With a sigh, he headed back over to his podium and hopped up, taking a look at the band. The low brass section was set up nearly perfectly, as was the drumline. It seemed Jamie was standing relatively still for once, too, so he could tell how the shape looked. Trumpets, they… Was that the wrong side of the hash mark? It looked like that offset the flute section, too. Lena was peering at her chart and trying to figure out why half of her section was lining up with the trumpets and the others were stubbornly sticking to their spots five yards away.

 

“Trumpets, check your dot sheets, you’re about five yards too far back,” Lúcio called out, wiping a thin trail of sweat off of the back of his neck. That seemed to fix it- there was a nice arc on the left side of the field now. High brass, clarinets, saxophones… Everyone seemed nicely in formation now, thank goodness. It took long enough to practice and memorize these spots without ending up in the wrong ones. If they were ever going to be competition ready, they had a lot of work to do.

 

Lúcio spent the next half an hour drilling these new spots into the band’s heads, repeating them over and over until progress slowly began to reverse, making it counterproductive to go on. Being the drum major, it was his job to ensure rehearsal was running as efficiently as possible, and to direct the band through the rather rigorous music and drill. And it sure as hell wasn’t running efficiently like this. He would have to just call another water break.

 

“Alright, ten minute break. Get some shade and rehydrate,” he yelled over the band before hopping off of the podium, rolling his eyes as half the band magically found its lost energy and ran for the water coolers. Freshmen, mostly. They probably could have kept working.

 

“You are a saint, Lúcio,” a voice from behind him piped up, the boy grinning as a thin pair of arms found their way around his neck. He moved to gently push the intruder off, flashing a warm smile. “C’mon, Lena, it’s too hot for this physical contact stuff.”

 

“Says the boy from Brazil,” Lena chuckled, performing a little salute with her piccolo. “You just don’t wanna hug from me. I’m offended.”

 

“Aw, c’mon, you know I always love hugs,” Lúcio insisted, getting in line for the water and folding his arms. “I accept hugs indiscriminately. Except for when I’m sweating my balls off, that’s the only time. Y’know running around checking everyone’s drill can get exhausting.”

 

“Running? Exhausting? You’re just out of shape,” the girl teased gently, giving a punch to his shoulder. “You’ve gotta be ready for track season this spring, why haven’t you been to the gym lately?”

 

Lúcio huffed, rolling his eyes. “Lena, I’ve basically been devoting my whole time to school and this band. I really think we can win in our division this year, we’ve just gotta buckle down and believe.” Their band wasn’t particularly large- they were in the AAA division. Just large enough to really start making an impact volume wise. They didn’t exactly have a history of success, though. At band competitions, they tended to place last or next to last in their divisions due to commitment problems and bad strokes of luck.

 

“You believe anything,” she laughed, pouring two cups of water and handing one over, which Lúcio took gratefully. “But you’re right about that devotion thing. I know you’re the best drum major I’ve ever marched for. And I’m totally not biased.”

 

“Aw c’mon Lena, you’re biased as all hell,” Lúcio scoffed before his countenance shifted to a smile. “But hey, thank you anyways. I really try, y’know? We’ve got some good players, and some really good leadership this year. If we can just get across to everyone the direction we wanna take, I’m sure we can get people to step up.”

 

“Well, you’re optimistic and that’s what counts,” Lena grinned before bouncing over to see what Hana was doing. Probably checking out some new IGN update or whatever. He tried to keep up with his friend’s gaming stuff, he really did, but half of it just confused him. He still did his best to make it to her streams, though. Lúcio was torn from his thoughts when he heard his name called, glancing up and trying to figure out where he had heard it from. Then he saw his band director coming over- an absolutely giant man. Not just of stature, but also of voice and spirit and heart. Some people may have some doubts as him as a director, but never of a person. You could never meet a kinder guy.

 

“Yo, Reinhardt, what’s shaking?” Most of the upperclassmen were pretty close to Mr. Wilhelm, and were on a first name basis with him. Lúcio was one of them.

 

“I wanted to speak with you for a moment about the band’s progress,” he informed, Lúcio giving a little nod. He knew what was coming. “I think you’re doing a wonderful job, but the ensemble isn’t being very responsive. You’re usually so upbeat, are you alright? I’m sure that can-do attitude would be most helpful here.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” the drum major sighed, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Maybe I haven’t been as energetic lately. I think the atmosphere’s getting to me. No one wants to work, and they act like I’m asking them to run twenty miles or whatever. I don’t get it, don’t they want to do well?”

 

“Everyone wants to do well, it’s just that not everyone wants to do the work needed to pull it off,” Reinhardt said wisely, a hand rising to stroke his beard. “And, I suppose,” he glanced over to the side, “Not everyone is accustomed to having to work to do well.” Lúcio followed his gaze, blinking as he realized his director was looking at Jamison. The drummer was talking loudly with Genji, tying some sort of god awful tinsel to his drum and telling him of his plans for the Christmas parade. That was literally months away, and there were far more important things to focus on. Reinhardt was right- Jamison could do well with no practice whatsoever. And it frustrated Lúcio. All of that talent was being wasted on someone with no focus or drive. It should go to the people who try hard but still struggle. It was so unfair.

 

“I guess you’re right,” Lúcio sighed before offering a smile. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe positive reinforcement? I can promise a pizza party if they finish the drill before the end of the week.”

 

“You said that last time, and then ordered pizza the very next day because you felt bad for them,” Reinhardt chuckled, shaking his head. “No, Lúcio, this is more of a problem with certain individuals. I was thinking you could talk to some people?”

 

“Oh, one on one stuff,” he groaned, running a hand through his cornrows. “You know I hate confrontations. I’d rather address the ensemble as a whole.”

 

“That would only make the whole band feel attacked,” Reinhardt pointed out. “No, it would be better to talk to the individuals. Don’t think of it is a confrontation. Treat it as… an intervention?”

 

“I suppose I’ll have to,” Lúcio sighed, tossing his empty cup into the garbage can. “I’ll do what I can. Just… Tomorrow. When everyone’s fresh. I’ll do it before rehearsal.”

 

“That’s what I like to hear!” The man beamed, patting his back so strongly that Lúcio nearly fell over. “I know you’ll do well, I selected you for a reason. Now let’s finish this rehearsal on a high note!”

 

Lúcio let out a giggle at the joke, shaking his head before heading back to the podium. Mostly he just needed to speak to a few freshmen. A few freshmen and Jamison. The latter was going to be harder, he seemed as if he could never admit his own faults. He seemed to think he was doing good for the band. How the hell was he supposed to convince him otherwise? Plus, he didn’t want to get on the guy’s bad side. He knew he had a bad reputation for getting into fights. He didn’t think that he would say anything to upset him that badly, but the guy was freakishly tall. Might not be a good matchup.

  
He blinked as his eyes met amber ones, Jamison having realized the other was staring at him. They didn’t narrow in contempt, luckily enough, but instead widened in curiosity and confusion. Then they glanced away, guarded. Lúcio couldn’t help but wonder, was he up to something? He probably was, he was always up to something. He’d better check the instrument storage room for ketchup mines before the band filed in after practice. With a sigh, he finally tore his gaze away, blowing his whistle for the band to come back. He couldn’t really seem to focus on the drill, though. All he could think of was how he was going to prepare for tomorrow, and how to even go about this. He had a tall task ahead of him. A freakishly tall, blonde drummer task.


	2. Missing in Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio is furious when he realizes Jamison has skipped rehearsal, but tries to focus on the good of the whole band instead.

Chapter 2

-

 

Chemistry was difficult for a number of reasons. For one, everything seemed totally abstract. Maybe all those protons and electrons and atoms and molecules were real, but they were way too small to see, so it was up to theory and equations to figure out what they were even doing. The only time Lúcio really seemed to understand was when they were doing a lab, but that only happened once or twice a month. Until then, he always had to slave over the complex mathematics and rack his brain over which periodic table trend could apply to the situation. It was only made worse by the fact that the class’s greatest distraction was in his period: Jamison.

 

Jamie was never known for his wonderful grades, but chemistry just seemed to be something he excelled in. He understood everything, and could always finish a lab before anyone else in the class. People clamored to be his lab partner, and were anxious to see his answers on quizzes and tests. The problem was, he would finish his work before anyone else and proceed to be a distraction to the rest of the class.

 

Pencils littered the ceiling from where the boy had lodged them there, and the metal arm connecting the desk to the chair looked ready to give out. His desk was absolutely covered in pencil marks- they weren’t doodles, but instead deep gashes where he had repeatedly scratched in his marks. He talked to anyone he could in the loudest voice possible, and his screeching laughter shook the walls. The teacher used to try and get him to calm down, but two weeks into the school year he just gave up. Lúcio didn’t want to say anything about the laughter- it was shitty to make someone ashamed of happiness. He really did want him to quiet down so that he could concentrate, though.

 

Really, it wasn’t like he could concentrate in the first place. Today was the day he had to confront Jamison, correct him on his behavior, and try to convince him to do good for the ensemble. His stomach felt uneasy, and suddenly he forgot the atomic symbol for Potassium. He hated things like this. He hated being the bad guy in this situation. He had always been the type to get along with everyone. Maybe Jamison was holding up progress, but he hadn’t done anything straight up malicious. It was just a shame he couldn’t channel his energy into something more productive.

 

He tried to go back to his chemistry homework. Potassium, there it was. It was in group one, so it had one valence electron. He doodled the electron diagram idly, feeling his mind wandering once again. Did he have some sort of attention deficit disorder no one’s told him about? Surely Reinhardt would have mentioned something like that to him before. But maybe something undiagnosed? He wanted to believe it. Anything to explain his behavior other than him just being a pain in the ass. No, maybe not that much of a pain in the ass. Maybe just that little back pain you get when you sit in a school desk too long. He didn’t want to think badly of people.

 

Lúcio groaned, pushing the worksheet away. He could just finish it for homework, this wasn’t working at all. All he could think of was the task at hand. He paused as he felt his skin crawl, quickly glancing around the room. Amber eyes were on him again, Jamison twirling a pencil in his fingers much like a drum stick. Suddenly he gave a big grin, gesturing to the pencil before tossing it up and laughing as it lodged in the ceiling. He seemed proud. Lúcio merely glanced away, feeling sick. He breathed out a sigh of relief as the bell rang, grabbing his things and hurrying off to his locker. The perfect time to remove himself from a situation.

 

“Hey, Lúcio? What’s up?” Hana spoke up as she approached him, a brow quirked in concern. Their lockers were right next to each other- a wonderful coincidence. “You look sick.”

 

Lúcio sighed, running a hand through his long hair. “Yeah, I don’t feel so great. Not because of illness or whatever, I’m just nervous. Reinhardt wants me to talk to a couple of troublemakers. You know I ain’t about that confrontation.”

 

“No, you definitely aren’t,” she mused, pulling her gym back out of the locker and popping a piece of bubblegum into her mouth. “But you’re so passionate about music! I bet if you show how much it means to you, they’ll wanna do better for you. It’s adorable, really, just use that musician’s charm.”

 

“Ha, that’s funny,” Lúcio snorted, though the corners of his mouth had been pulled into a smile. “But you’re not wrong. Music’s my life. I’ve just gotta remember it’s not for everyone. Some people just can’t be made to make music for music’s sake. They’ve got other things that’re more important. And marching band? For some people it’s farther down their favorites list than others.”

 

“Music for music’s sake? You’re starting to sound like Reinhardt,” Hana teased, elbowing him slightly. “Though maybe because you might end up like him. An old man stuck teaching a high school band class.”

 

“Hey, don’t make it sound like that. He’s bringing the inner musician out of everyone,” he scolded, grabbing his own bag after placing his books neatly on his locker shelf. “... Okay, maybe I am sounding like Reinhardt. But hey, I wanna major in performance, not education. As you can tell, I’m already god awful at dealing with troublemakers. I’d just wanna work with the people who really care.”

 

“Well, sometimes it’s hard to tell who really cares, isn’t it?” Hana pointed out, making Lúcio fall silent. She was right, no one wore a big sticker on their shirt that told him how much they cared. And anyone could look like they don’t care when they’re hot and exhausted. Maybe he shouldn’t be too quick to judge.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Hana,” he said earnestly, earning another shoulder nudge in return. He took his gym bag to the bathroom, shimmying out of his jeans into a pair of basketball shirts, then shrugging off his vest to leave just a green tank top. He then switched out his shoes for some sneakers, and pulled up his hair into a ponytail. It was important for the drum major to wear proper attire for practice if the rest of the band was to follow suit. He needed to set an example.

 

Once he was satisfied that he was rehearsal ready, he ducked into the band room, scanning the area. Jamison wasn’t in here, maybe he was still changing. Though, he rarely ever changed, now that he thought about it. “Start heading outside guys, get into sectionals. Attendance will be taken in five,” he called out, grabbing his clipboard and pulling his whistle over his neck.

 

He lingered in the band room as the musicians trickled outside, watching everyone who went by. Still no Jamison. He checked the instrument storage room and hallway just to check, but he still didn’t see him. An uneasy feeling settled into his stomach. He hadn’t skipped, had he? He knew he wasn’t sick, he was just laughing and acting up in chemistry not more than twenty minutes ago. Maybe he had just gone outside early. With a sigh, he turned to head outside and take attendance for the band.

 

The clarinet section leader was sick today, so it looked like Lena was taking over sectionals for both flutes and clarinets. Lúcio watched with a smile as they practiced their marching, marking down anyone else who wasn’t here. That smile vanished as he realized that the tenor player was missing, though. It quickly turned into a feeling of anger. All of this mental preparation for talking to him, and he didn’t even bother showing up? The band needed him there to finish setting this drill. They needed him for practice. Why did he treat the needs of the band like utter absolute garbage?

 

Fighting down a scowl, he climbed onto the podium and blew his whistle to start warm-ups. He could distract himself from the anger like this- by conducting the band. His arm muscles stretched and flexed with every movement as he did his wide conducting pattern through the warm-up routine. Down, in, out, up, down, in, out, up… With a little bounce every time, clearly marking where each beat began. For once the drumline was right with him. Jamison wasn’t there to push the tempo and force the band to play faster than it had to. Lúcio couldn’t say he missed that.

 

He quickly forced himself to think of anything but Jamison. Instead he directed his attention to the trumpets, noticing they were getting off, and shifted to a wider, clearer pattern. This was more stress on his arms, so he tried to conduct this big only until they got back on tempo. There, the band was together again. One band, one sound as they used to say. He wasn’t sure where the saying went, did it die out with the seniors his sophomore year? Maybe he needed to bring that back, it was a good saying. One of being in unison, of being together. Yes, it was a saying they really needed right now.

 

Reinhardt called out the schedule for practice, and everyone broke away from their block to find their spots for the beginning of the second movement. They had to rehearse everything they practiced yesterday, all while marching and playing the music. It was going to be a rough few runs, but Lúcio was confident that the lead snare would follow him well and keep the band together. Immediately he was reminded of Jamie, who sure as hell wasn’t going to show up now. So he had left. He couldn’t help but feel his cheeks warm up, gritting his teeth angrily. If you had to be absent, you were supposed to bring a note before you left. No, he probably didn’t have a note. He was just skipping, and that’s not something you can excuse with a note. Lúcio couldn’t believe the nerve he had.

 

The more that practice went on, the more Lúcio realized this was getting to him too much. Why? People have skipped before. They just have to do more work when they get back. It’s their loss, really. So why was this getting to him so much? He supposed it was just because he was disillusioned. People have always told him that he puts too much faith in others. Maybe they were right. He had always dismissed them, saying people were always capable of so much. They just needed some guidance to put their heart in the right place. But not it was seeming more and more like some people just cannot be guided. He felt his conducting patterns getting sloppy, and willed himself to focus more on the task at hand. The people who did matter were still counting on him.

 

He smiled a little at that, feeling some of his anger dissipating. That was right. There were people here right now who cared. There were people that were trying their hardest, playing and marching to their best ability under the searing heat. The band wouldn’t be able to do anything without their example and ability. No, Lúcio had to do their best for them. He had to set the example alongside them, and lead this band to victory. He couldn’t get bogged down on the people who held them back, he had to do his best for the ones who pushed them forward.

 

After this epiphany, he felt like they started making better progress. He called out the sets quickly, giving little time in between for chatter. The first half of the second movement was soon looking just as good as the first. Pleased with his band, he glanced up at Reinhardt for permission before granting them a water break, chuckling as a couple of freshmen put their instruments down on the asphalt and hurried inside for the restrooms. At least that meant they had been hydrating.

 

With a happy hum, Lúcio stretched out his arms before climbing off the podium, coming over to stand next to a beaming Lena. “Did you see that?” She questioned, eyes alight as she practically bounced in her spot. “We did so well! You got this big look of concentration on your face, and suddenly you sped up rehearsal and we had to practically run from spot to spot. But it was okay, my whole section stopped talking and buckled down! We could tell you meant business.”

 

“Aw, c’mon, Lena,” he said bashfully, resting one hand on his hip. “That wasn’t anything I did. The band stepped up, it was you guys. You should be proud of your section, flutes are always chatterboxes.”

 

“Don’t I know it,” she laughed, getting them both a cup of water like always. “But yeah, I’m super proud of them! Doesn’t mean I can’t be proud of you, too.”

 

“Well thanks, then,” Lúcio smiled, pulling her into a sideways hug while chugging down his water. It was a particularly hot day out today. He blinked as one of the freshmen, a trumpet player he thought, ran over to him with a concerned look on his face.

 

“Lúcio,” he said urgently, “I heard crying in the band room!”

 

Lúcio blinked, his smile falling. He liked to think of himself as a guidance counselor for the band. He always let people come to him with his problems, and tried his best to help them with it. He liked to think he was one of the most approachable drum majors in the county.

 

“I’ll go check it out, thanks for telling me,” he sighed, patting his shoulder gently and exchanging a worried glance with Lena before heading into the building. It seemed relatively deserted- most of the teachers had gone home at this point. It was nearly 4:00. As he approached the band room he realized, yes, someone was definitely crying. It wasn’t sad crying, either, it was frustrated crying, and filled with expletives. He hurried inside, glancing around the room. Empty? He frowned, instead trying to pinpoint the sound. It was coming from the corner where the percussionists kept all of their equipment. He walked over quietly before blinking. One of the drum cases was closed.

 

“Hey… Is someone over here…?” Lúcio ventured, frowning as the crying stopped abruptly, replaced by little sniffles as if someone was trying to choke back their tears. Instantly, he came over and pulled the top off the huge drum case. Inside, Jamison was curled up unnaturally, his head tucked into his knees. The moment the lid came off, the boy shoved an arm over his eyes, trying to shield them from the flood of light.

 

“Jamison?” He questioned incredulously, taking his arm to gently pull him out. Jamie winced, fighting back another round of tears and practically falling onto the band room floor. He allowed himself to slowly uncurl, stretching out his body. He had obviously been curled up for well over an hour, and probably panicking and crying for that long, too. Lúcio felt sick to his stomach.

 

“Dude… Are you alright?” Jamie glanced up as he was spoken to, then pulled an inhaler out of his pocket and took a few frantic puffs. He was definitely not alright. Feeling even worse, he reached out to rub small circles on the guy’s back.

 

“Guess you know not to crawl into the drum boxes now, huh? Thought only the freshmen did that.” Lúcio blinked as suddenly Jamison’s panic turned into full blown anger, slapping off his hand and tears instantly dripping down his face again.

 

“Ya think that’s what happened, mate? ‘Ow the hell do ya think it’s appropriate to tell this guy who got shoved into a drum case by his own fuckin’ section leader for an hour that he learned his lesson? You f-fuckin’,” he wheezed again, grabbing at his chest. “Fuckin’ asshole…”

 

Lúcio felt distinctly nauseated. What had happened? The drum captain had done this? He didn’t think she would do anything like that. But here was Jamison, wheezing and crying and obviously in a lot of pain. He was definitely the one in the wrong in this situation. He had assumed wrongly of him.

 

“Dude… I’m so sorry,” he sighed, looking over him with concern and pulling some painkillers out of his bag. “Man, I fucked up. I just kinda assumed, I didn’t think anyone would do that to you. Here, take this, just don’t tell Reinhardt I gave you medicine. How much does it hurt?”

 

Jamison paused, taken aback at the apology, before groaning and sinking back down onto the floor. “A shit ton, fuck… I wanna go home…”

 

“I can call your mom for you,” he offered instantly, handing over three pills and pulling a water bottle out for him. “Reinhardt can run rehearsal, I’ll stay here with you.”

 

“Yeah sure, whatever, if it’ll ease yer conscience,” Jamie snorted, weakly taking the pills and rubbing his aching arm.

 

“It’s not just to ease my conscience, dude, I’m worried about you,” Lúcio urged, fighting away little tears of his own. He hated this. He hated that someone could do this. He hated that he had acted so terribly. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

 

“I imagine not,” Jamie said dully, groaning as Lúcio pulled him up with surprising strength to place him on the couch. He instantly turned to hide his face in the couch, looking embarrassed about the whole thing.

 

“It’s okay,” Lúcio said softly, pulling out his phone. “I’m calling her right now, I’ve got the numbers for all the parents.” He quickly picked her number out of the list and called it, looking over the poor guy and trying to figure out if he sustained any real injuries. He explained the situation as quickly as he could, relieved to find out she would be on her way.

 

“You don’t have’ta stay here,” Jamie mumbled through the leather couch cushion, fingernails digging into his arms. Lúcio instantly tutted, swatting the hands away before he hurt himself. “Too bad, I’m staying here. It’s my job.”

  
“Funny, I thought yer job was to wave yer arms a lil’,” he countered, the smallest of giggles rising from his throat as Lúcio swatted at him again. He would definitely have to talk to Reinhardt, and the drum captain too. If Jamison was being treated like this, it would be no wonder he wasn’t giving his all. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna do his best for the band, and for everyone in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I'm not sure what I'm doing with my life.


	3. Pre-Game Ramblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio gets ready for the big game tonight, and has a moment to address the band as a whole.

Chapter 3

-

 

Lúcio couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. The first football game was supposed to be an exciting time for everyone. The freshmen got to experience their first night in the stands, and their first halftime show. They got to play fun stands tunes, dance, and do their chants. The rest of the week’s practice had gone well- they were now able to march and play the first two songs of their show. Their theme this year was Cirque du Soleil: Journey of Man. A major step up from last year’s Beethoven show. Nothing against Beethoven or anything, but it doesn’t make for an incredibly interesting halftime.

 

He wasn’t too terribly concerned with how the band would do at halftime. The first performance was always a little shaky. No, Lúcio was more worried about before the game. He had planned on giving a speech for the band, about their progress, and about the future. He had practiced it for hours, and used Hana as a stand-in audience. He was lucky to have a friend like her, honestly.

 

At first, he wasn’t sure how much he needed this speech. After he found Jamison, the guy had quieted down some in rehearsal time. The freshmen he had spoken to had shut up a bit, too. He told Reinhardt about what happened to him, but he had his doubts that it could be the drum captain, and instead promised he would keep a closer eye on her. Lúcio hadn’t been satisfied with that answer, but it was a start. As a whole, the pace was beginning to pick up, and he couldn’t be happier. It still didn’t mean there wasn’t a hell of a lot more work to do.

 

“Mãe, onde está o meu chapéu?” He questioned as he rooted through his closet, pulling out his white shoes and rubbing off a smudge of dust with his thumb. He already had his uniform; being the drum major, he had the normal orange and white band uniform as well as some nice cuffs, and an orange glittering cape. He had to admit- the cape was part of why he auditioned. It looked awesome. He just needed to find his shako.

 

“Está na prateleira superior,” his mother called from the other room, answering his questioned. The top shelf, great. With a sigh of thanks, he grabbed his chair and pulled it over to the closet door, climbing on top. The cons of being short. Sure enough, his hat box was up there, collecting dust from not being touched since band camp. He pulled it down, hopping off the chair with a little hum. That was everything, right? The uniform parts, his clipboard- oh right, his whistle. What was a drum major without a whistle? He quickly pulled it off his dresser, stopping to look at himself in the mirror. His long dreadlocks were twisted into a bun, ensuring they would fit properly inside his shako. He was wearing the year’s shirt, their school logo on the front and the show’s logo and title on the back. Most of it was obscured by the white bibbers however, which were the overall-like base to the uniform that also served as pants. He gazed into his own chocolatey eyes for a moment, willing himself to keep his chin up and look proud. This was for the band. He watched as a smile spread across his face, grabbing his whistle and pulling it over his neck. “We’ve got this,” Lúcio beamed, grabbing his stuff as a honk sounded outside. That would be Hana.

 

“Eu te amo mamãe, eu estarei em casa pela meia-noite!” Lúcio called, making sure his shoes were on properly before hurrying outside. He moved to go grab shotgun like he usually did, throwing the door open in preparation to babble at Hana about his excitement, but he paused as he realized Jamison was sitting in the seat already. Jamie jumped too, before grinning and waving. “Oh, hey there mate!”

 

“Jamison called earlier, he said he didn’t have a ride,” Hana said apologetically, gesturing to the back. “There are french fries back there, we stopped by McDonald’s to get some food in him.”

 

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Lúcio blinked, closing the door and moving to the back instead, grabbing the McDonald’s bag. “Your mom working late tonight, Jamie?”

 

“Nah, she didn’t feel well,” he shrugged, looking like he didn’t want to talk about it. Instead he just changed the subject. “Didya guys see that new Pokémon game comin’ out? I’m so fuckin’ excited, you have no idea.”

 

“Oh, I knew plenty from all the leaks,” Hana smirked, pulling out of the driveway and zooming off towards the school. “I always know what’s going on in the gaming world. Bet you can never tell me anything I don’t already know.”

 

“I didn’t even know a new game was coming out,” Lúcio admitted, glancing over at Jamison and chewing down a couple of fries. “And I didn’t have you pegged as a guy who played Pokémon.”

 

“Aw man, c’mon, I know I look more like a D&D freak, but I swear I’m more of a Nintendo guy!” Jamie pouted, only earning a confused look.

 

“I’d expect Pokémon more than D&D honestly,” Lúcio chuckled, shoving a few more fries in his mouth. Hana knew him better than he did, they were in theater together. Emphasis on were, she ended up quitting the class in favor of taking more technology classes. Either way, neither of them could see Jamison playing D&D.

 

“So you guys excited for the game?” Hana questioned, Lúcio lighting up. “Oh yeah, I can’t wait! We gonna teach the rookies the rooster chant?”

 

“Of course we are, what kinda shit question is that?” Jamison snorted, bouncing in his seat. “I’m just achin’ to play again, get those sticks under my fingers.”

 

“Uh, that’s kinda gay, Jamie,” she teased, moving to nudge him. Jamie swatted her in return, and once again Lúcio was having to break up a swatting fight.

 

“Please don’t crash us into a tree before our first football game,” Lúcio groaned, shaking his head and leaning back. “I don’t think the understudy has the show down yet, and I doubt she knows all of the stands tunes.”

 

“If we die, who will honor Harambe?” Jamie whined, Lúcio instantly shooting him a look. “Jamie, that’s not funny anymore! I get it, our mascot is the gorillas, you don’t gotta keep beating a dead horse.”

 

“... Ya mean a dead gorilla?” Jamie ventured before bursting into a fit of high pitched giggles, slapping his knee. Not a second later, Hana joined in, and the front half of the car was losing it. Lúcio sighed, sinking in his seat. God damn it.

 

“C’mon, lighten up,” Hana managed to say through her giggles, pulling into the packed student parking lot. “We’ve got an awesome night ahead of us! I know you’ve been looking forward to this.”

 

Lúcio smiled at that, nodding and finishing off the fries. “Yeah, me and everyone else. I mean, look at this band! We’re gonna do great.”

 

“Dunno about that,” Jamison snorted as they parked, getting out quickly and popping his back. “Drumline can’t seem’ta get their shit together. The bass drums keep losing their music, too.”

 

“Jamie, you never use music,” Hana pointed out, taking out her keys and spinning them around her finger.

 

“Yeah, ‘cause I got it memorized!”

 

“Okay, okay, you guys don’t need to argue. Be more optimistic,” Lúcio urged, hopping out of the car and grabbing his stuff. “We’ve gotten a lot done this week, we’ll do great!”

 

“Optimism and blind faith are two totally different things,” Hana laughed, nudging him ever so gently before leading everyone inside. “You ready, Lúcio?”

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he sighed, flashing her a reassuring smile before going to start the tedious process of attendance and uniform inspections. The criteria was simple. Each band member had to have all parts of their uniform, white socks that came up to at least mid-calf, and their instrument. Failing meant five minutes off of third quarter break. The drum major slowly weaved his way through the band, humming the show tunes and taking notes down on the clipboard.

 

He sighed as he arrived to the percussionists, raising an eyebrow at Jamie. “Where’s your band shirt?”

 

“Couldn't find it, mate,” he shrugged, grinning at him. “But ‘ey, I still wore somethin’ orange!”

 

“Jamie, the rules say it's gotta be a band shirt,” Lúcio insisted before sighing, shaking his head. “Fine, I'll write you down as a pass. But only if you keep your coat on all night.”

 

“Deal,” Jamison grinned before going back to banging on his drums, happy to make as much noise as humanly possible. Lúcio merely rolled his eyes, knowing it would have been a stretch to request a thank you, anyways.

 

Once he was finished, he hurried over to Reinhardt, handing over the clipboard. “It’s 6:15 sir, anyone who comes in after this is tardy.”

 

“Thank you, Lúcio,” Mr. Wilhelm smiled, patting his shoulder heartily before moving to the front of the room. He raised both of his huge arms to get the band’s attention, and slowly the cacophony of instruments warming up faded to a more agreeable nothing.

 

“Good afternoon, band!” Reinhardt beamed, stepping up onto the podium. “Did everyone get their homework done before call time?” He only laughed as there were a few uneasy murmurs, shaking his head. “Perhaps I should not have asked. It’s alright, now we focus on music! It’s game night! Who’s excited?”

 

Instantly there were some loud hoots and hollers from the trombone section, particularly from Genji. His older brother glared from his spot in front of them, turning around to hush them pointedly. Genji stuck out his tongue.

 

“I’m glad to hear we have some eager beavers in here,” Reinhardt chuckled, moving to check his agenda. “Now, seeing as it’s the first game, I have some ground rules to lay. Number one, always leave the stands in pairs.”

 

Instantly there were some groaning among the freshmen. They had assumed the buddy up rule would be left behind in middle school. “Secondly, no phones in the stands. Perhaps you can change my mind about this if you get a funny enough video of me on snapchat, but so far I’ve yet to see one that warrants cell phone use.”

 

Hana giggled slightly, making a face at Lena. The pair had been sneaking out their phones in effort of getting hilarious band snapchat stories for years. Not exactly setting a great example for their section.

 

“Next, no food or drink other than water in the stands. Our instruments and coats are expensive! No need for risking spillages,” he said, instantly looking at Genji. The boy whistled slightly, hiding his bottle of Mountain Dew behind his desk. His friend laughed and elbowed him, calling him something related to Baja Blast.

 

“Finally, no playing out of turn! The rules say that if we play songs while the ball is in play, we can cause a foul for our team.” Lúcio huffed at that one. It was a stupid rule, and he was rather sure that it was made because some butthurt team was looking for a loophole.

 

“Now,” Reinhardt began, “You’re about to have a transformative experience in your lives. Freshmen more so than anyone. You are in an ensemble that will literally only exist until the end of marching band season. Next year, it will be a different group of musicians! You make a unique sound that only this particular band can create, and a unique set of friendships that will never exist to this extent again.” Lúcio’s face fell. He had almost forgotten that he was going to graduate after this year. This was his last time being with the band before their first game. A last first? An interesting concept, but sad nonetheless.

 

“That being said, you need to relish in these moments,” Reinhardt continued. “Back in the Mesozoic Era where I played with my own band, I remember how quickly my time passed before it was all over. I know it’s difficult now, playing in the hot sun and working your tootsies off. But rest assured, my little ducklings, it will all pay off in the end! Now, I heard your drum major would like to speak to you!”

 

Lúcio had been off to the side giggling about his director’s duckling comment, but he paused when Reinhardt spoke to him, straightening up and trying to regain his authoritative look. With a nod and a smile, he took Reinhardt’s place on the band, his gaze sweeping over the band.

 

“So, we’re at our first game,” he started, looking around and finding Hana’s gaze. The girl gave her a big smile in return, and suddenly he felt a lot more at ease. “For some of us, our last first game! It’s been an incredible journey, to say the very least. We’ve come a long way from our freshman year.”

 

Lúcio glanced around until he met the eyes of one of the freshman flute players. He gave her a warm smile, hoping to be reassuring. She looked nervous. “When I first started here in this band, we were placing dead last in every competition, and no one wanted to do anything but play stands tunes. But look at us now! Last season, we got all superiors from our last competition!”

 

He took a deep breath, trying to look more like he was addressing the band as a whole. “I know that some of you are more concerned with how well the band does this year. And I know that some aren’t. A couple of you, music is your life. I know it’s mine! It’s okay if it isn’t though. You’re here. I know every single one of you cares at least a little bit, because you’re sitting right here in this room with your band family.”

 

Lúcio realized his eyes were meeting amber ones once more, staring at Jamison. Why did his eyes always seem to meet his? “... All I ask is that you please try to remember why you’re here. Are you here to make friends? Build those relationships. Try your best for the people around you. If you’re so concerned about your buds, make sure you pave the path for an amazing competition season for them. Are you here for the music? I can sympathize with you on that. Music is so intrinsic to our being. It’s how we communicated before language was even a thing. Hell, music is _the_ universal language! It’s a part of it. We march with it just as we move with it on the dancefloor. We are all a heartbeat. We are a rhythm. When I was younger, we used to say ‘One band, one sound!’ And I think we need that more than ever. Don’t set yourself apart. You may be a wonderful musician or a struggling one, but we’re all parts of one big, wonderful whole.”

 

He realized for once, Jamison wasn’t off making jokes or tossing pencils. Instead, he was staring at Lúcio with a mix of intent listening and childish wonder. Lúcio couldn’t quite pinpoint how that made him feel, nor understand why he was looking at him like that. “We have such an awesome group this year. We can do amazing things! All of the foundations are there- good instrumentation, a good number of people, a high general skill level, a fantastic show… I believe in every single one of you, unwaveringly. All I ask is that you reciprocate some of that belief in me. I want to guide you the best I can. Let me into your hearts- no, let music into your hearts!”

 

He hadn’t realized he had been tearing up until he felt a drop roll down his cheek. Embarrassed, he quickly wiped away the stray tear. He didn’t mean to cry in front of everyone. But no- people were clapping. He could have sworn he heard Jamison whistle. Lúcio jumped as Reinhardt clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him over, and his hearty, booming laugh filled the room. There was pride in his eyes. Lúcio had done something right. Soon he was smiling, too, and his chest swelled as he looked over the band. His band.

 

“Let’s kick some ass tonight!” He shouted over everyone, beaming as the room erupted into whoops and cheers. He let this go on for a good thirty seconds before raising his hands again, trying to calm them down. “Now, we’ve gotta teach the rookies the chant! Officers, you ready?”

 

Lena hopped out of the seat, grinning excitedly. The chant they did before and oftentimes at games was a sort of call and response. It was loud, proud, and everyone’s favorite part of pre-game. The officers would yell out the call, and the rest of the members the response. The drumline scrambled to put on their drums in time for the chant before gazing expectantly at Lúcio for the cue. He gave it more than willingly.

 

Four rimshots from the drum captain filled the air, followed by from Jamison, and the officers erupted into the chant.

 

_“Hey lift your head up to the sky! (Hey lift your head up to the sky!)_

_‘Cause we’re the gorillas, passin’ by! (‘Cause we’re the gorillas, passin’ by!)_

_And if you heard what I just said! (And if you heard what I just said)_

_Get down on your knees and bow your head! (Get down on your knees and bow your head!)_

 

_Go Apes! (Go Apes!)_

_Go Apes! (Go Apes!)_

_Go Apes! (Go Apes!)_

_Go Apes! (Go Apes!)_

 

_Hey what’s that comin’ down the track? (Hey what’s that comin’ down the track?)_

_A huge machine that’s big and black! (A huge machine that’s big and black!)_

_Ain’t nothin’ finer in the land! (Ain’t nothin’ finer in the land!)_

_Than the Athena High School Marching Band! (Than the Athena High School Marching Band!)_

 

_Go Apes! (Go Apes!)_

_Go Apes! (Go Apes!)_

_Go Apes! (Go Apes!)_

_Go Apes! (Go Apes!)_

 

_1-2-3-4!_

 

_Gooooooo Athena High School! (x8)_

 

_G-O-R-I-L-L-A-S! Goooooooo, Apes! Get ‘em!”_

 

The band room erupted into whooping and gorilla noises, the rookies looking at each other in a mix of confusion and wonder. Once again, Reinhardt raised his arms to calm them down, grinning widely. “Alright, band! Be lined up in your lines outside in five minutes! Back row, leave first!”

 

Instantly, there was a mad scramble to get out the door, everyone eager to get to the game. Lúcio laughed happily, watching them go with a fond smile on his face before a large hand on his shoulder distracted him.

 

“That was an absolutely beautiful speech,” Reinhardt smiled, patting his shoulder gently. “Lúcio, whatever you do with music, I have absolute faith that you’ll go far with it. You touched everyone with your passion today. I couldn’t have asked for a better drum major.”

 

There go the misty eyes again. Lúcio looked up at his teacher with tears in his eyes before hugging him tightly. “Thank you.” he breathed, letting go after a moment to rub his eyes. “Everything I said, I mean it so much. I know tonight’s gonna be great, I hope people really listened and put their heart into it.”

 

“Even if they don’t, I’m still incredibly proud of you,” the man chuckled, grabbing his speaker. “Go, your band is waiting.”

  
“My band is waiting,” he echoed before grinning wide, hopping off of the podium and dashing outside. They had a fun night ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for ending it like that, but the chapter was going to be incredibly long if I did the whole football game afterwards! Don't worry, the actual game will be next chapter!


End file.
